A Time to Execute
by SexySymphonyMisses
Summary: There's a time to play hard-ball, a time to appologize, and a time to execute your band's knowledge on the field. " drama, general, a little bit of director-student romance if you look at it that way ... T for some language.


**A Time to Execute**

She looked at him across the room … she didn't mean to stare at him. But she supposed she couldn't help it. He had an odd combination of traits. They enthralled her. He was tall, had red hair, a chilling smile, a sarcastic mouth, icy blue eyes, a terrible temper, and craziest of all … he was her teacher. More specifically, her band director.

It was September 7th, a Friday, and game day. First game of the season. Which meant it would be a big night for the team, and the marching band. And it being the first time they would execute their show for an audience (this year), Mr. Moore was a wreck.

"Louder! Louder! What do you think fortissimo means, people?!" he had yelled during their first song in symphonic band. "If the composer had made the decrescendo any more obvious it would have come out and poked you in the eye, Mike!" And finally, the third song ; "Da capo, people, means return to the beginning -- not stop, get confused, and forget what you're doing!" Mr. Moore, turned into a menace for 90 minutes and at the end of class, went out with a bang.

"Oh! And everyone in marching band? Due to the game tonight - I'm calling a practice, three to six, game starts at 7:15 sharp. Be dressed by seven."

"Uhm, Mr. Moore?" A second chair tuba/sousaphone player raised his hand.

"Yes, John?"

"How are we supposed to eat dinner before the game if we have all that?"

"Huh, I don't know. Good luck with that!"

**xXx **

"Hey! Chloe!"

"Yeah?" She slowed down. She had seven minutes to get from band (room 101) to drama (room 103)…she had time!

"Geeze, Mr. Moore was totally bitchy today! Any idea what his problem is?" Jen asked. Jen was a fourth chair clarinet player, out of four, and for obvious reasons.

"I know he seemed off. But bitchy?" Chloe asked. She always did seem to take his side. Even when he annoyed her, or upset her, and even when everyone else decided to hate him, she stood by him.

"Yeah. I mean, I dunno … Isn't 3 hours of practice a lot?"

"Yeah, I guess. " Chloe started walking again. "But I mean, I understand! We need it. Tonight's a big night."

"Come on, Chloe! It's not that big! No one expects you guys to be perfect your first night out."

"I know."

"Yeah, sure you do. How about Mr. Moore. Does he know?"

"Uhh…" Chloe began to shy away a little. She hated it when people talked about Mr. Moore like some sort of, monster.

"Come on Chloe. Admit it, he's totally taking out his anger on you guys. On us. It sucks! Admit it."

Chloe, who'd finally traveled the 20 feet to the drama room, turned around. "Fine! It sucks!"

"See, I knew you'd agree with me." Jen turned to walk back to her class.

Rolling her eyes, Chloe walked herself into the drama room, wondering how the rest of her day would be going.

**xXx**

At three on the dot, the field was over taken by a deafening whistle.

"Okay People! We have three hours to nail this thing. So … don't screw up! Set, picture 32!"

Three hours later, and some sweat and possible tears … The band exited their practice field and rushed to their dressing rooms.

"Explain to me why we have to try to eat and change at the same time?" Mike, a second chair clarinet, asked drum like captain, Nate, as he handed out sandwiches.

"Because Mr. Moore's insane? I don't know."

"Ugh … This is terrible; I can't get dressed and eat in forty-five minutes!" Cara, the piccolo section leader complained to trumpet player, Mazzie.

"I have no idea… No talking! More dressing!" Mazzie rambled.

Chloe, on the other hand, just listened to everyone as they ranted and raved about Mr. Moore. In ten minutes, she'd already changed socks, put on her pants, put her hair in a bun and found her gloves. All she had left to do was put on her hat and zip her jacket. She eyed herself in one of the full-length mirrors of the dressing room.

She loved her uniform. It fit her beautifully, or as nicely as a uniform could. The stripes across the front made her look bold, and broad chested, strong. And the line down the side of her perfectly ironed pantlegs made her normally short-stature seem tall. Smiling to herself, she walked to the band room.

The room was empty, seeing as everyone else was frantically running around the dressing rooms. Chloe paced some. She let her eyes run over all the past year's trophies and metals as she let her hat dangle by the chin strap from her hand. After a moment she hurt rustling behind her. Turning around, and seeing no one there she realized it must have been Mr. Moore in his office. Cautiously, she roll-stepped towards his office and peaked in. What she saw both surprised her, and broke her heart.

Mr. Moore was sitting in his faux-leather office chair with his face in his hands. He let out a sigh and brought his face away from his hands. Looking up he shot her a look.

"Yes, Chloe?" He asked cooly.

"Oh, nothing." She said as she stood on the threshold of his office.

"Oh. Okay." He said as he turned to his desk. He scribbled something and looked up, "You're still here …"

"Are you okay, Mr. Moore? You don't seem okay." Chloe blurted as she entered his office.

"I'm fine." He said bluntly.

"Mr. Moore … "

"It's nothing. Go … find something to do."

"Uhm, okay." Chloe muttered, defeated. She stepped back into the band room and walked over to her seat. With a sigh, she sat down; but she heard another heavy sigh fall to her ears from his office. Standing once again, she walked into his office. Finding a similar site. This time, she didn't speak, and he didn't look up.

She watched him a moment. He seemed so, hopeless! She'd never seen him this way. Usually, he seemed so powerful. But now? He seemed broken. Just that morning he'd been a 'monster'. She wondered what had happened. She'd never seen him that abusive as she had that morning, or this upset as she saw him now.

Doing all she could, she stepped silently into the room and walked to his side. She placed her white-gloved hand cautiously on his hunched over shoulder. He twitched at her touch and looked up at her, then placed his face back into his hands.

"Mr. Moore …" She began, her voice shaking some. She was afraid he was angry with her. It really wasn't her place to bother him, and she knew that, but she couldn't help it.

"I'm sorry." He muttered.

"What?" She was genuinely confused.

"I don't feel like I've done all I could have. We're not ready, and it's my fault."

"What are you talking about, Mr. Moore?" Chloe questioned, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

"Our band isn't ready to execute, and it's my fault. I didn't teach it well enough - I didn't help you guys enough - we didn't drill enough!" He rambled.

"Mr. Moore, I know it isn't my place to say …" Chloe began, "But I think you do a good job. We're fine. We're going to be fine!"

"Sure…" he looked at her and pushed back in his chair.

"Really!" She stepped in front of him now. "We're good enough!" At this point, she was almost insulted. "We can do this! We've worked hard enough! We can do this!"

"Fine." He said simply.

"Really! Mr. Moore! We'll prove it. Do you think we can't?"

"I think you can, I just don't know if you will."

Thoroughly insulted now, she looked her director straight in the eye, his icy blue ones staring back at her. "We'll do it! You'll see! We'll prove you wrong … we've worked too hard to walk away with nothing. I only wish you felt the same way …" she tried to gulp back the lump that had formed in her throat as she walked away. She left Mr. Moore to hang his head once again, because this time … he had screwed up.

**xXx **

Mr. Moore stayed silent throughout the first half of the game. When halftime came it was time for the marching band to take the field. Mr. Moore failed to have any encouraging speech thought up, so instead he just pointed to the field and said "Go get 'em."

The band took the field and even with the bright lights and with the shouting crowd, made up of students and parents, the band blew everyone away. From their first note, to their last measure, they stunned the audience … and Mr. Moore.

Exiting the field, a sense of pride filled Chloe, and the rest of the band. As they exited the field cheers and congratulations were shouted. Even Mr. Moore spoke up, "Great show guys, we have a lot of work ahead of us … but good job." The band broke into smiles and laughter and left in little groups and clicks to find food, talk, or simply rest their chops. All except one.

Chloe took off her hat and let it dangle, once again, by the strap from her hand. She looked around the field and felt a sense of accomplishment. Then, she found Mr. Moore's eyes. They stared at each other a moment. She didn't know what to say, and he didn't know how to apologize for doubting them …

After a moment's silence, and a crack in the wind … and a cannon shot announcing second half, Chloe smiled and ran to Mr. Moore and jumped into his arms. He caught her in an embrace and laughed.

"I'm sorry I doubted you." He laughed as he set her back down on the ground.

"It's okay." She smiled, just happy to have done her best, their best.

"No, it's not okay. I'm sorry. You all work so hard, and I …. I'm just sorry."

Chloe smiled, unsure of what to say … Mr. Moore took Chloe's hat from her and put his arm around her shoulders. "Come on," he said, "let's go. Time for some sodas … and my notes."

"Notes?" Chloe eyed Mr. Moore.

"Yeah … I'm re-writing the drill for the ending … I don't like it …"

And with a groan, Chloe and Mr. Moore headed back up to the stands; heading back up to the spot where, once again, no one would understand them. But … that was okay. Because when he doubted them, she'd prove him wrong … and when she needed it … he'd be there to give her a push in the right direction.

**xXx END xXx **

3 KRM 3


End file.
